(Hazarded Naddo) "finds; 'the man can't stoop To sing us out,' quoth he, 'a mere romance; He 'd fain do better than the best, enhance The subjects' rarity, work problems out Therewith.' Now, you 're a bard, a bard past doubt, And no philosopher; why introduce Crotchets like these? fine, surely, but no use In poetry--which still must be, to strike, Based upon common sense; there 's nothing like Appealing to our nature! what beside Was your first poetry? No tricks were tried In that, no hollow thrills, affected throes! 'The man,' said we, 'tells his own joys and woes: We 'll trust him.' Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart!--why, to be sure Yours is one sort of heart--but I mean theirs, Ours, every one's, the healthy heart one cares To build on! Central peace, mother of strength, That 's father of ... nay, go yourself that length, Ask those calm-hearted doers what they do When they have got their calm! And is it true, Fire rankles at the heart of every globe? Perhaps. But these are matters one may probe Too deeply for poetic purposes: Rather select a theory that ... yes, Laugh! what does that prove?--stations you midway And saves some little o'er-refining. Nay, That 's rank injustice done me! I restrict The poet? Don't I hold the poet picked Out of a host of warriors, statesmen ... did I tell you? Very like! As well you hid That sense of power, you have! True bards believe All able to achieve what they achieve-- That is, just nothing--in one point abide Profounder simpletons than all beside. Oh, ay! The knowledge that you are a bard Must constitute your prime, nay sole, reward!" So prattled Naddo, busiest of the tribe Of genius-haunters--how shall I describe What grubs or nips or rubs or rips--your louse For love, your flea for hate, magnanimous, [Sidenote: Their criticisms give small comfort:] Malignant, Pappacoda, Tagliafer, Picking a sustenance from wear and tear By implements it sedulous employs To undertake, lay down, mete out, o'er-toise Sordello? Fifty creepers to elude At once! They settled stanchly: shame ensued: Behold the monarch of mankind succumb To the last fool who turned him round his thumb, As Naddo styled it! 'T was not worth oppose The matter of a moment, gainsay those He aimed at getting rid of; better think Their thoughts and speak their speech, secure to slink Back expeditiously to his safe place, And chew the cud--what he and what his race Were really, each of them. Yet even this Conformity was partial. He would miss Some point, brought into contact with them ere Assured in what small segment of the sphere Of his existence they attended him; Whence blunders, falsehoods rectified--a grim List--slur it over! How? If dreams were tried,